


Incredulity and Other Emotions

by Meowser_Clancy



Series: Jimel Moments [3]
Category: Ghost Whisperer
Genre: Birthday, F/M, present, surprise, white lies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:56:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6228355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowser_Clancy/pseuds/Meowser_Clancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim has a disappointing birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incredulity and Other Emotions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghostwhispererfangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostwhispererfangirl/gifts).



> It's GhostWhispererFangirl's birthday and, being the good friend that I am, I wrote her this fic. Wish her happy birthday by leaving some extra reviews/comments on her works. She's on here and on ff.net. 
> 
> Happy Birthday, Mariah :)

Jim looked out the window of the pizza parlor at the sunny town. He was meeting Melinda for lunch, but as usual his beloved wife was running late.

He hesitated, then walked to the counter. "Can I have two slices of sausage and an iced tea?" He requested and paid the amount the clerk told him before sitting down by the window he'd just been looking out of, staring out at the town and the people outside.

It—it shouldn't bother him. He knew that Melinda didn't really like celebrating things like Valentine's or even Christmas, to an extent, and God knew she hated the very mention of her own birthday, shying as far away as possible from any sort of celebration.

But to go so far as to dismiss Jim's, which was today, it hurt a little. She hadn't forgotten, oh no, she'd just asked if he would mind her going out that night to some sort of book club with Delia, since Delia had been asking her to go for the past few months and Melinda had always had to cancel at the last minute and she felt bad about it.

And Jim, fool that he was, had said of course, he didn't mind. Why should he?

And now she was late. As usual. And, not as usual, it hurt.

The waitress brought his pizza over and Jim took a bite. Marciano's usually had the best pizza in town but this tasted like sawdust in his mouth. He choked down a few mouthfuls with some iced tea and looked morosely out the window.

And he saw Melinda. Even with how he felt right now he perked up at seeing her. Of course he did. He loved her, with a depth that continued to terrify him.

It didn't help that she looked especially tempting today, what with her up off of her neck in a bouncing ponytail, elongating the curve that he most loved to kiss. What with the brown wrap dress that just matched her eyes, low cut and cinched at the waist to show off the curves that Jim loved so much: hips and breasts.

She was glowing in the sunshine, her gladiator sandals creeping up her ankles to make Jim itch to unfasten them. He never admitted it but he actually liked it better when Melinda wore flat as opposed to when she wore heels. It was—invigorating to be so much taller than his wife. And though heels made kissing easier, flats were more fun because then he got to pick up at the waist (he loved her waist) and she, inevitably, wrapped her delectable legs tightly around his waist.

He swallowed, realizing that his pants had just gotten tighter, just from thinking of her and seeing her enter the shop.

Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and she hurried over.

"Hey, you already ordered?" She asked, leaning to press an all-too-brief kiss to his temple.

"Yeah, I was hungry," he began.

"No, that's tine," Melinda said, waving him down. "I'll just go put in an order myself. I'm so sorry for being late, Jim."

"It's fine," he lied, but he realized that it was, indeed, becoming fine in his mind now that Melinda was here.

"I just feel so bad since we aren't doing anything for your birthday and this was supposed to be a replacement of sorts for a party or whatever," Melinda said, standing intoxicatingly close to him.

"Well, we could still do something to celebrate," Jim began and Melina laughed, leaning closer. He got a rather fantastic view down her dress then and lost all brain function in that moment.

"What?" She asked, her lips almost brushing his ear and JIm bit back a moan. Was she doing this on purpose?

He inhaled so that he could bring oxygen back to his brain and formulate a sentence but he only got the scent of her perfume: musky, sweet, flowery.

"We could go home after lunch," Jim suggested, taking her hand and pressing an open mouthed kiss to her wrist.

Her eyes darkened, but then she shook her head. "I wish, but I can't. It's crazy at the shop and I had a ghost all morning so Delia was holding down the fort all by herself and I don't want to have to ask her to do that again, even though she would. Maybe because she would."

Jim felt a keen disappointment slice into his heart. "Mel—"

"I have to go order, just a sec," she said and hurried to the counter, hips swaying.

Jim inhaled sharply at the sight and moaned low in his throat, determining to go home after lunch alone—and take a very cold shower; otherwise he wouldn't survive an afternoon at the firehouse.

He watched her, his eyes tracing over her feminine form, from her legs up to her neck, getting stuck a bit in the middle but travelling up in time to see Melinda smile as she turned around and came back to the table, hopping onto one of the tall stools with ease, her skirt flipping up a bit as she did so.

He bit back another moan and let his eyes meet hers, trying to force a smile onto his face.

"Well, the shop closes at five," Jim said. "When does your book club start? I thought it wasn't until eight."

"Seven," she said. "But you have a shift until 6:30, right?"

"Yeah, but I could get someone to cover," he managed to say, conquering all pride.

Her eyes softened. "I'm sorry, Jim, but Delia asked me to come over early to help set up for the club, and she's been so good to me recently."

"No, it's fine," Jim said quickly. "Doesn't matter. It's just..."

"What?" She urged.

"Nothing," he finished. "Hey, want to split a calzone? I'm not really feeling this pizza."

"Okay," she agreed, and he hurried to the counter, throwing his pizza into the trash can.

"Can I get a calzone?" He asked, and took his time paying for it, counting out change to the last penny before going back to the table.

"I don't like this," he said baldly. "I know that you don't like birthdays and that's fine, but this hurts. And I know that it's just a day..." He trailed off, unable to find more words.

Melinda's pizza had come and she was in the middle of chewing when he said his piece, slowing.

"Oh, Jim," she breathed, reaching to take his hand. "I'll make it up tomorrow. I promise."

"How long does your club last?" He wondered.

Melinda shrugged, lifting her shoulders lightly. "Delia said that good nights meant staying until midnight. But I don't have to do that."

"No, stay if you have fun," Jim said. "I'm taking this too hard. I'll just order in some chinese food and watch Bond or something."

"I don't have to go," she said, but Jim shook his head.

"No, go," he said. "Listen, I have to be getting back to work. My shift starts soon."

"Your calzone," she began, but he took advantage of her open mouth by kissing her, long and deep and not enough by any means.

When he pulled away, she looked a bit dazed and he noticed that the people in the close booths looked slightly uncomfortable.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," he whispered, and left before he said something he'd regret.

* * *

He spent a restless afternoon, with no calls, and just a lot of games of slapjack with the guys at the station. Usually he liked these afternoons. There was no stress, there was just time spent hanging out with his best friends and colleagues.

But today all he wanted was something to actually take his mind off of Melinda and if he was actually hurt and why it hurt so much, and oh, god, how she'd looked in that brown dress.

He wanted to rip it off. He was halfway through undressing her when Bobby cleared his throat and Jim realized it was his turn to play.

That was when he'd almost given up, formulating a plan. He'd tell the guys to cover for him and he'd run over to _Same As It Never Was_ and drag Melinda out back to her car. They'd done it in a jeep before. They could do it today. If he worked fast, he could be done in five. Ten if Mel could get in a good climax and Jim would never leave her wanting, so he'd better make it fifteen.

It was his turn again.

Jim played and his mind whirled around thoughts of Melinda and how much he didn't want to be here right now.

And then it was 6:30 and his shift was over.

He called Melinda, hoping against hope that she might still be at home, or the shop, and alone, instead of at Delia's getting ready for her book club.

"Hey, Jim, I'm glad you called," she picked up. "Listen, I'm already at Delia's, but I left the book at the house. Could you swing by really quick to pick it up for me? It's on my bedside table."

He felt his throat work. He felt like he was coming down with something. That had to be why he felt like crap. Or maybe it was because his wife was doing everything possible to avoid having sex with him. That would make any man feel like shit.

"Sure," he answered, suddenly not hurrying. Maybe he could at least get in a good makeout session with Melinda at Delia's house.

He drove home slowly, his legs seeming to drag after he'd parked his truck in the driveway. He walked into the house slowly too, and took the stairs only one at a time.

The door to their bedroom was closed. That was a bit odd. They usually left it open.

He walked forward and flung it open, ready to get the book and get it over with, but the sight that met his eyes absolutely floored him.

Melinda was sprawled on the bed, wearing only a corset and a pair of panties so tiny that they didn't even qualify.

His heart began to beat at triple time, and he could only stare.

She slowly sat up, slowing the movement so to give him a better view.

His throat worked, and he found himself walking forward, his hands going to his blue paramedic shirt; the buttons.

"Hi," she said, her voice low.

"I thought you had book club," he said.

"I told a white lie; it's actually tomorrow," she told him. "I wanted to surprise you. I never let you do anything for my birthday, so, I don't know." She looked up at him anxiously. "I felt so bad at lunch. Are you mad at me?"

He let out the moan he'd been stifling earlier as his dress shirt fell to the floor and he peeled his t-shirt over his head. "Melinda, that's the farthest emotion I can think of when I look at you."

She smiled. "You like what you see?"

"Yes," he whispered, and moved closer to her, his mouth immediately going to where it was drawn: her lips. Oh, he loved kissing his wife. Oh, he loved that he could let his lips roam down her neck to her cleavage. Oh, he loved unfastening certain items of clothing and easing them from her body. He loved the sounds she made. He loved when she surprised him.

Most of all, he loved her. Forever. He was so glad that she was here right now. He wasn't sure what he'd have done if he'd actually had to spend the evening alone.

Her hands were roaming over him, driving him crazy, and she broke away long enough to voice one wish:

"Happy birthday, Jim," she whispered. "Was it a good one?"

"The best," he managed to reply.

**Author's Note:**

> Just watched 5x01. And...I think I hate it. From Jim wearing a baseball cap during all of Mel's delivery, to the fact that this show has become about PARENTS suddenly who have no LIVES beyond staring at their kid....and that Jim doesn't ghost hunt with Mel anymore. It's just boring ol' Eli, who literally has no character worth beyond being a ghost hunter with Mel. He's not really a friend. He's not really anything beyond a ghost listener. Which is why Payne was so much better; Payne was an actual character, with flaws and purposes beyond ghost hunting. Eli? Not so much. 
> 
> Sigh. I guess the season might get better as it goes on. Might get worse, too, but I'll see it through to the end. Just not yet. I don't think I'll watch more for awhile. I'm too scared.


End file.
